Blood Ties: Reality Hits
by Waterdancer
Summary: Things aren't always what they seem.


"Blood Ties: Reality Hits"

Author: Waterdancer

Email: jch0578@yahoo.com

Feedback: Yes. Constructive crit or positive feedback.

Archival: Cover Me, Alias fanfiction list. Anyone else please ask first.

Rating: PG

Classification: AU, Drama/Angst

Summary: "Others appearing to be lost in their own thoughts. You envy them."  A continuation of the Blood Ties series.

Disclaimer: Alias and all its elements are owned by ABC and Touchstone Television. It is the creating of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot productions. Do you want to sue me? Do you? It's not worth it.

A/N: Please read these stories in this order:  "Blood Ties" http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=963016 ,

"Blood Ties: Mirror Image" http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=974272 by Icyfire, "Blood Ties: Tangier" http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1026044 and "Blood Ties: Lying in Wait" http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1034700 by Icyfire.  Thanks to Robin for the beta services, and the encouragement.  Thanks to Karen T for the help with this during the day, amongst other things.  Thanks also to Celli, Thorne, Lara, and others.  

****

"That was weird," you say to Peter as you sit down across from him in one of the many Starbucks in Los Angeles. You motion to the waitress to bring you an extra tall black coffee. You remember a time when you used to stay away from coffee, but after traveling around the world the way you have in the past few weeks, you're surprised that you ever lived without it.

"What was weird?" he asks, still reading the newspaper.

"During our operation into the Smythe office building downtown, I thought I saw someone I know, but there's no way he could have been there." 

"Who was it?"  Peter doesn't show any visible reaction, but you feel an added tension in the air.  You know he is alert and paying attention, even as he acts like he's not.

"Will," you reply a wry smile on your face. "But like I said, there is no way he could've been there.  I mean, it's a computer software company, and he's pretty much computer illiterate," you say with a small chuckle. A memory comes to mind the first time that Will tried to use the laptop that the newspaper provided him. Aside from Word, a graphics program, and the Internet, the only thing he knew how to use was the on and off button.  

You frown because Peter is still engrossed in the newspaper. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Francesca," he answers, wincing as he turns to face you. "I haven't read an English language newspaper in a long time."

"How's your arm?"  A waitress sets your coffee in front of you.  You think back to the story that he told you about Tangier. He had looked bad after his fight with Sydney and her partner, but he'd told you that he was fine.  You still feel guilty about leaving him alone to do your battle. "No one can know who you are yet, Francesca," he had said to you, patting your arm. "I've been hurt worse than this."

"It comes and goes.  I'm getting too old for this," he grumbles as he folds the paper and takes a sip of his coffee.

"You're only thirty-five, Peter. You're not old!"

"This business ages you, Francesca. I've been at this a long time." You hear the tiredness in his voice, and it frightens you.  You look into his eyes, and suddenly he looks ancient. He's been through so much.

"So you knew my sister while she was in training," you say, glad that you've finally gotten out the question that had been plaguing you since the day you met Peter. The way he'd looked at you, like you were familiar, had made you suspect that he'd known Anna. And the way he usually treats you leads you to think that they might have been friends.

"Yes, I did. We were partners at one point," he spits out, looking over your shoulder 

Your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn't expected him to tell you anything. While he was friendly enough person, but there were times that you'd caught him with a faraway look in his eyes as he watched you train.

"Can you tell me something about her? Anything about her life? I know so little about her. I knew about her job and her love for art, but beyond that--" you stop as you feel fresh tears come to your eyes. "I miss her, Peter," you say quietly. You take a napkin and dab at your eyes.

He's silent for a long time and you can see your pain reflected in his eyes. "I do as well." He takes a business card out of his jacket pocket and writes an address in Venice Beach on it. "Meet me there tomorrow morning, 9 a.m. sharp.  I'll tell you what I can about Anna, and we can discuss your next assignment." He takes your hand in his. "It'll be okay, Francesca, I promise.  I'll talk to you in the morning."

***

You stretch as you get out of your car, enjoying the early morning sun.  You look around at the near deserted beachfront, taking in all the scenery.  You watch people on roller blades make their way down the long walkway, some listening to headsets, and others appearing to be lost in their own thoughts without a care in the world. You envy them.  

Opening the backdoor of your car, you pull out the big sun hat that you had bought when you were in Spain last year with Anna.  She had teased you about it, and then bought one to match.  "What can I say? It's cute," she had said with a chuckle.   

You walk down the boardwalk looking for the address that Peter had written down for you.  As you reach your destination, you stop and look at the beach house in front of you. Tan and white, it blends in well with its sand surroundings. As you walk up the stairs, you notice a metal wind chime hanging by the door; it's the same one you purchased for Anna when you went to Florida to visit your cousin Tanya.

Pushing the white door open, you look for Peter. 

"Peter?" you call out, looking at the seascape paintings on the wall.  You mouth drops open in shock as you see the same metal sculpture hanging over the tan couch that you have in your bedroom at home.

"I'm out here," you hear him call from the back of the house. "On the back porch."

You place your tote bag on the table and find your way to where he is. "Hey," you say to a seated Peter.  He's looking out at the Pacific. 

He looks up at you and points to a plate of food on the table. "I fixed you something to eat."

"Is this your house, Peter? I didn't know you lived in California.  How long have you lived here?" you ask, picking up the plate from the table

"I'm not here as much as I used to be.  We've owned this house for four years," he murmurs. You can hear a twinge of sadness in his voice.

You look at him with your eyebrows raised as you sit down in the white patio chair. "'We've'? I didn't know you were married, Peter. What's your wife's name?"

He looks stung by your words as he turns to look back at the ocean. "I've never been married."

"Oh," you respond, biting your lip.  "So, who are you talking about?"

He sighs and turns back to face you. "You wanted to know about your sister, right?"

You nod.

"Anna and I shared this house," he says matter-of-factly, and he waits for your response.

You don't know what to say.  You have a million questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Feeling like a child caught reading someone's personal journal, you feel like you shouldn't ask him anything, but you can't help it.  "Were you two involved? I mean as--"

"Lovers?" he finishes for you, looking down at his hands.

You nod slowly, immediately embarrassed for asking Peter such a personal question. "If you don't want to answer me, Peter, it's okay."

"No, Francesca, it's fine. It's just that I haven't talked about it, since--" he starts, and his voice trembles a little. You never thought that you'd ever see him show you any emotion. "I haven't talked about it since I got word that she'd been killed," he concludes, taking a deep breath.  Anna being gone seems to have affected him as much as it has you. You wonder what his initial reaction had been to her death.

"When I met Anna, she had just gotten out of her basic training, and I had been assigned to work with her for two years.  Back then the directorate required all new agents to be assigned to another agent who had at least five years of experience.  I had already worked with two agents prior to her--but Anna was by far the most difficult. She challenged every decision and every operation. Drove me insane, but she was a good agent." He smiles.  

You smile in response. It sounds just like your sister. You motion for him to continue.

He sits back in his chair and glances at the ocean. "We worked together on various operations, a lot of times in close proximity of each other.  When you work with someone as close as Anna and I were, you get to know each other. Anna had many layers to her personality.  At times she had this cold exterior that an armed tank couldn't get through, but sometimes she let me see that warm person that so few ever had the pleasure of knowing."

You take a sip of your juice. "Peter, when did you and Anna become involved?"

Peter drops his head and that is when you notice his left hand toying with a brass band on his ring finger. "It didn't--" he starts to mumble, his eyes refusing to meet yours. "It wasn't—K-Directorate frowns upon operatives getting involved. People's emotions become too closely tied."

"But?" you prompt.

"Anna didn't care about the rules. She--she followed her heart." Sadness fills his voice, and you can tell he is trying to hold back tears.

You wait for him to continue despite the questions screaming to be asked.

"I wasn't supposed to become involved with a fellow agent, much less someone that I had seniority over. We were in Tasmania, and we'd gone there in search of weapons plans.  There'd been some--problems." Peter rolled his fingers inwards, and you watch his hands form tight fists. 

"The intel had been incomplete; Anna had gotten injured and I almost killed the person who had hurt her.  While we were waiting for a team to extract us, a storm hit.  We needed shelter and your sister was bleeding profusely. It was bad, Francesca.  I wasn't sure that she was going to make it." His voice cracks as he squeezes his eyes shut. 

"And as she was going into shock, I promised I would protect her, that I would not let anything happen to her. Then she kissed me." Peter's lips curled upwards and when he opened his eyes, you see pain that takes your breath away. "It was a beautiful kiss, Francesca, but I was scared. Scared of what it meant, scared that she would forget about it. I was so afraid of what it meant that after I made sure that she was safe at an agency hospital; I disappeared."

"So, then what happened?" you query, the food on your plate forgotten.

A sad smile meets his eyes. "Two weeks later, she showed up on my doorstep in Milan, and told me that if I ever left her side again, she'd hunt me down.  We were not supposed to fall in love, but we did.  I would not have traded the time I had with her for anything."  

"How did you guys end up here though? I mean, with the work that you both were involved in, wasn't it difficult to have anything?"

Peter looks around the surroundings of the house, and the sad smile remains. "Anna found this house about four years ago; she bought it to be closer to you.  She always kept an eye on you.  She had watched Charlie and knew that he was not for you, but she knew that you'd have to see it for yourself.  We came here a lot to decompress after missions, and to avoid scrutiny from Mikhail. He was against Anna and I being together, but you know how your sister could get."

You think back to the talk she gave you when you were contemplating dropping out of business school.  She put the fear of God in you, and you loved her for it.

You look at his empty plate, and down at your partially filled one.  "Are you done? I can take that for you."

"Thank you, Francesca."

***

As you are walking out of the kitchen, you spot at a picture hidden behind the breadbox on the counter.  You look around for Peter, and see him still sitting on the patio looking at the ocean. You reach behind the box and pull it out.  A sad smile comes to your face as you look at the photo of Anna and Peter.  They both appeared to be extremely happy and very much in love. You trace the outline of her face, and look at Peter's.  He has his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, and his wide smile is matching hers. Looking at the picture more you can see why your sister fell for him. He was a handsome man, but the way he held her was one of protection and love.  Peter had been your sister's protector.

"I'm surprised she kept that picture," he says from behind you, making your heart skip a few beats.  He reaches around you and takes the picture of your hand.  "Do you mind if I keep this?"  You start to protest, but decide against it.  You have pictures of her at home in your closet.

He sits down at the glass table and points at a chair across from him.  "Have a seat, Francesca. I need to tell you about your next assignment."

He reaches in a bag at his feet, and pulls out a manila envelope.  He looks at it for a moment and slides it to you. "Before you open it, I want you to know that I am completely against this assignment that you have been given.  Unfortunately, I'm not the head of K-Directorate—Mikhail is."

You look at him, your stomach a knot of worry, as you open the envelope. You know he can see your concern on your face as you open the envelope. "I'm sure it's not that bad, Peter." As you pull out the contents and see the familiar name; you realize that it's a lot worse than you anticipated. "What does Will have to do with this?"

He runs his hands over his hair and sighs.  "We believe that Will Tippin knows about Agent Bristow's operations, and Mikhail seems to think that if someone got close enough to him, he'd be willing to talk.  He wants you to use your relationship with Mr. Tippin to gain that information."

You look at the picture of Will that was taken as he sat in the park talking to a man dressed in a dark suit.  They had tried to look like they weren't talking to each other, but it was obvious that they were.  You can feel your hands shake as you continue to look at the picture. 

When you glance at Peter, he's looking at you with an intense stare. "Francesca, I know that this comes as a shock to you because of how close you are with him.  If you don't want this assignment, let me know, and I'll tell Mikhail to figure something else out."

Hot tears start to form in your eyes.  You look at the pictures again, and you shake your head. "Who is this man that Will's talking to?"  
  


Peter pulls out his own copy and looks it over. "At this time, we are still trying to identify him. He isn't in any known SD-6 personnel file that we've come across."

"There isn't any way that Will's involved in this, Peter.  I know him," you say, pleading with him. You look at the picture again.  You trust Will. He would've told you if he was involved in something.

"You knew Sydney, too, and look what she did to Anna.  Look at the other pictures," he says placing his envelope back on the table.

You flip through the rest of the pictures and a small gasp escapes your lips.  There are pictures of Will exiting a van and talking to a dark-haired woman at last week's assignment.  You notice a simply disguised Sydney coming out of the building, holding her messenger bag close to her body. You feel your mouth form a tight, hard line. 

Peter is by your side in an instant. "Francesca, Will is your friend, and I don't want you doing something that you could regret later.  Mikhail is convinced that this is the only way for us to get the upper hand, but I do not agree."

You toss the pictures across the table and stand up. "Will is a liar, and not my friend. He could have told me what was going on. I mean, I've been spending more time with him than Sydney anyway. He just should have told me," you say quietly.

"That may be true, but Will **is your friend. There were many times that Anna told me about the things he would do for you.  When you and Charlie ended your engagement, he was there to check on you, and he spent time with you as well.  I'll understand if you do not want to do this."**

You sigh as you think back to all the times that Will has been there for you.  A feeling of resentment grows as you wonder what lies Sydney has told him. Part of you doesn't want this assignment, but as you think back to the story Peter told you about your sister, you decide that you need to do it. "What will I have to do?"

****

You're looking at pictures in your hand as you hear the doorbell ring.  It's Will.  You take a shoebox out of your closet, and place the pictures of Anna that Peter gave you earlier in it.  

As you walk towards the door, you try to steel yourself against the emotions that are threatening to come out.  You're nervous about this assignment, but you understand why you need to do it.  You need to find out how to take revenge on Sydney for her betrayal, for what she has done to you and Peter.  It is the only way that you can sleep at night, and it is the only way that you feel that you make sure that Anna's death wasn't in vain.

Taking a deep breath you open the door. "Hey, Will," you say with a smile.  He smiles back at you in response, and you try to remember what your duty is. "How are you?" you ask, stepping to the side to let him in.

"I'm good, Francie," he says as he steps inside. He hangs his coat up by the door and gives you a tight hug. "I've missed you," he mumbles into your neck. "How was your trip to—what was it again? New Orleans?"

You look at him blankly as you pull away from him. "New Orleans? Oh ,yeah, New Orleans," you reply, hoping Will will think that your fumble is because it's been a few days since your return.  "New Orleans was nice. I attended a few seminars on Southern cooking.  I'm sorry that I haven't been able to see you until now, but I've been busy.  However, I'd love to try a few new recipes on you, if you don't mind." 

He looks pleased with your proposal. "Francie, are you offering to cook me dinner? You know you don't have to; I understand that you're busy with your new job and all. You don't have to feel bad because you couldn't do a movie night."

"Well, I know that you've been through a lot lately, with the situation with Nicky and his dad," you say, looking at him, trying to see if you can notice a flicker of something. "And with the carjacking. I'm willing to bet that you haven't exactly been taking care of yourself."  You wonder if the carjacking was a lie or not. You smile and pat his cheek. "So let me take care of you, Will."  You realize that you do mean that offer. It's not a lie.

*****

You laugh as Will makes another joke about a recent interview he'd done for the paper. "That was so funny, Will," you say as you dab at your eyes with your napkin. You pick up his plate and head towards the kitchen. "How did you like the fish?"

"It was great, even with all the spices."

"Did I use too much?" you query, looking at him over your shoulder.

"No, it was fine.  That seminar your job sent you on is going to pay off for you eventually," he says, picking up his glass from the table and following you into the kitchen. He places the glass on the counter and puts his hand on your shoulder. 

A small smile tugs at your lips as you look over at him.  You know that you are supposed to gather intel about Sydney from Will, but you're enjoying spending time with him, just like you usually do. "Thanks, Will," you reply, blushing.  

He looks at you for a long time, and then quickly turns away. 

"Have you talked to Sydney?" you ask as you try to keep the edge out of your voice.  

"No, I haven't. I know that she's been really busy with the bank lately," Will answers as he turns back to face you, acting as if he doesn't know what's going on with her.  

"Oh." You turn back to the dishes in the sink. "Is she doing okay?"

He leans on the counter next to you and sighs. "She's doing okay, you know. Just exhausted."  You'd looked for Sydney when you got home from your talk with Peter, and she'd left a message saying that she'd gone on another business trip. 

"Well, if you think she's doing okay, Will.  I'm just worried about her. She's never at home anymore.  I feel like I don't have anyone to talk to lately about things.  She's been gone since I've been back."  

"Francie, we've been spending a lot of time together. You can talk to me if you want."

You look over at Will and smile.  "Do I have you, Will?  Honestly?"

He moves closer to you and brushes a stray hair out of your face.  "Yes, you do," he replies as he kisses you.

You recoil in surprise. 

"Francie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't be sorry, Will," you mumble as you rub your lips.  The shock that you received as he kissed you was unexpected; you didn't anticipate that or strategize it.  As you look at Will, you wonder if you should return the kiss. After all, this may be the opening you need.

You step in front of him and look up. As you lick your lips, you reach up and pull his head towards yours. "Never apologize for something like that," you murmur as you return his kiss.

* * *


End file.
